


The Kids Are Okay

by Nebulad



Series: Achilles Reborn [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, End Game Spoilers, Fluff, Gen, I'm just in here fixing some stuff don't mind me, Major plot spoilers, Minor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: On the bright side, when Stentor started cycling through what he told her was the very basics of beginner combat in theagoge,Nikolaos’ eyes fell back to the two of them instead of the mountain. Privately, Phoibe thought maybe that he couldn’t to go up, even if he wanted to; Kass, after all, had told her what he’d done. Maybe that was a confrontation best held on solid ground.“Watch your left, Phoibe,” the man said from his seat on the doorsteps. Doing so made her lose track of the right side, and Stentor swept her legs out from under her.She scowled up at the sky. “How am I supposed to watch two sides if I only have one stick?”





	The Kids Are Okay

Phoibe sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes anxiously darting to Mount Taygetos every few seconds. She knew two things: Kassandra and Myrinne were up there, having left just before Phoibe could get to them; and Deimos was up there too, with molten fury in his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed her tailing him.

“Phoibe.” Stentor, Kass’ other brother, lifted himself sharply from his curled position against the house where they (including Nikolaos) were waiting. The general was the only one Phoibe had been comfortable running to; she might’ve picked out any soldier, but they would have attacked Deimos. Nikolaos had simply gotten Stentor and taken them both to the house to wait: _some things, Phoibe, we have to let happen. We have to believe that Kassandra and Myrinne will get through to him._ ”Come here and I’ll teach you some sparring tricks.”

“Right now?” She eyed the mountain again.

“No better time. If you can fight with your mind clouded, then you’ll be even better when you focus.” She chewed her lip, then stood and caught the spear he tossed to her. She didn’t have  _ nearly  _ as hard a time trying to find someone to teach her how to fight in Sparta as she had in Athens. Even Aspasia had tutted when she’d wanted to learn to use a dagger:  _ what would you ever need to fight for? _

On the bright side, when Stentor started cycling through what he told her was the very basics of beginner combat in the  _ agoge,  _ Nikolaos’ eyes fell back to the two of them instead of the mountain. Privately, Phoibe thought maybe that he couldn’t to go up, even if he wanted to; Kass, after all, had told her what he’d done. Maybe that was a confrontation best held on solid ground.

“Watch your left, Phoibe,” the man said from his seat on the doorsteps. Doing so made her lose track of the right side, and Stentor swept her legs out from under her.

She scowled up at the sky. “How am I supposed to watch two sides if I only have one stick?”

“It’s a spear, and by keeping your eyes on me instead of your feet. Again,” Stentor said shortly, rolling his shoulders. She jumped up and took a deep breath, trying to guess  _ where  _ on him she was supposed to be looking. His hands? His face? His feet? She settled on hands, since they held his spear. The stick swung down to hit her and she raised hers to block— at which point he twisted it in his hand and swept out her legs again.

“How long did you say  _ agoge  _ training was?” she asked exasperatedly, and she could see him fight a smile that Nikolaos didn’t try to hide.

“Longer than ten minutes.” She could see him preparing to say  _ again,  _ when suddenly Nikolaos stood. Phoibe followed his and Stentor’s gaze, and her breath caught in her chest; Kassandra was walking arm-in-arm with Deimos, talking animatedly.

“—and then he fell over a few pots and  _ splash.  _ Right into the harbour.”

“Surely he could swim.”

_ “That’s  _ what I said! I don’t know if he could or couldn’t though; the sharks got to him pretty quick.” Deimos snorted, and she pounded his chest. “And Alcibiades  _ looks _ at me and says  _ I guess you’re champion now.”  _ Myrinne laughed from behind them, looking happier than Phoibe had ever seen her trailing behind the two. She jumped to her feet, forgetting her spear and darting around Stentor’s legs.

Deimos saw her first, starting in surprise. “Oh. You’re here.” He looked supremely awkward, but she didn’t bother to point it out; his eyes were all red and swollen, so she would wait to  _ really  _ tease him.

_ “I  _ live here. Kassandra brought me after the plague.” She looked up at the woman, who nodded and knelt down to face her.

“Phoibe, this is my brother: Alexios,” she said, and the girl clearly felt that it was the official death of Deimos. Kass had never told her his real name before, even back on Kefalonia when she hadn’t known he was even alive.

_ Alexios.  _ It was a nice name; less silly than  _ Deimos,  _ more like a regular name for a normal person.

She looked up at him, making sure she had his attention. “I told you so.”

“I  _ knew.”  _ He rolled his eyes and Phoibe laughed.

“Were you waiting for us long?” Myrinne asked, gesturing over to where Nikolaos and Stentor stood. The spears were long forgotten on the ground, and Nikolaos had Stentor’s shoulder gripped in his hand so hard that his knuckles were pale.

Phoibe waited for one of them to answer, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Behind her, Kassandra and Alexios had both gone very,  _ very  _ still; she looked back at them and found that Alexios was squeezing Kassandra’s hand so hard that it looked painful. “I went and got them when I realised you’d both gone up the mountain. I saw Alexios go up earlier but I couldn’t catch you, and they came over to keep me company.”

“I’m glad. Was Nikolaos teaching you how to use a spear?” Heedless of the tension, Myrinne walked past everyone to reach the discarded weapons.

Phoibe shook her head, staying where she was. It felt like if she moved from her spot between the pairs, there would be nothing stopping them from colliding. “He was trying to help me, but I couldn’t figure out where I was supposed to look to keep Stentor from knocking me down.” Myrinne laughed, walking over to pat her head and straighten a few errant hairs.

“We should go down to the market and see if we can get you something weighted properly. These old things wouldn’t keep a wolf away, let alone an army.” She leaned them back against the wall where they’d started, then walked over to her estranged husband and his son. “Stentor, could you come with us? Kassandra always used my father’s old spear, so I’m afraid I don’t have the experience outfitting anyone under the age of twenty; your  _ agoge  _ experience would be invaluable.”

“No.” He barely let her finish before he refused.

“You should go with her, son.” Nikolaos freed Stentor from his grip, which seemed to unnerve the man. The fact that Phoibe could see it on his face meant that he was nearly hysterical, and he turned to his father. “Trust your sister, Stentor. Go with Myrinne and help Phoibe.”

Kassandra looked up from where she’d been frantically whispering to Alexios, making eye contact with Stentor. She nodded. “It’s all right,” she said without a shadow of doubt, her hand still caught in her brother’s iron grip. “I’ll make sure everyone stays civil.”

Stentor opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. Slowly, his head turned to Myrinne and Phoibe. Silence rang for a moment, and it was the most vulnerable Phoibe had ever seen him look. “All right,” he said finally, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’ll be  _ right  _ back.”

“We’ll be here,” she said with a cheeky salute, and from beside her Alexios took a deep breath and nodded.

“It’s settled then,” Myrinne said, not in the least bit worried; that made Phoibe feel better as she took Stentor’s arm and gestured the girl ahead. She knew the way to the market, but still felt like… maybe she shouldn’t move. “Don’t worry, Phoibe. Kassandra never loses.”

Stentor snorted bitterly and she laughed, slowly shuffling over on wooden legs to meet them. She had to agree with Stentor on this one though; she’d go to the market, but rush home.

. . . . .

They stand in silence until they can’t see Phoibe and her escorts leaving anymore. Kassandra’s hand had long since lost feeling, but the thrill of knowing that it was her brother that crushed it more than made up for the numbness; still, even as possibly the least upset of the three of them, she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m glad,” Nikolaos offered from his spot, and Alexios stiffened. “Despite what I did, you grew up strong.”

“Thanks; they tortured me until I was fit enough to hit back,” Alexios snapped, taking a step forward.

“Stay calm,” she reminded him, squeezing back.

“I know.” His teeth were grit and he didn’t return the ground he took, but she felt him consciously relax. “I know.”

“Kassandra told me what happened, after Myrinne tried to save you. I wish I’d been the sort of man who’d have been beside her, demanding your body.” She stayed beside Alexios; he was the one who needed her there, but she felt a pang of… well, not sympathy exactly, but secondhand regret from her  _ pater.  _ She had her confrontation with him already, so maybe that was why this time he seemed more lost than he had in Megaris.

Alexios sneered. “If you had been, none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have lost twenty years of my fucking life—” He stopped sharply, his jaw somehow getting tighter.

“I know. Any apology I make would be meaningless in the face of the pain I caused.” He looked so old and grey then, and Alexios must’ve seen it too because she felt his grip relax. “I want you to know, though, that you and your sister being alive today despite my actions… it’s more comfort than I dared hope for.”

“He was going to disappear,” she murmured, just to her brother. “After I told him to stew in the guilt for the rest of his life, he was going to leave Sparta and  _ find his honour.  _ I found him killing Athenian assassins on the Boeotia front months later, where Stentor was; he couldn’t stay away from Sparta knowing that his son needed his help.”

“Fat lot of fucking good that does us,” he hissed in return, which was the answer she’d been expecting. He was young and raw and never had someone go out of their way to care for him before; he couldn’t comprehend the gesture.

“It shows he’s changed, that he’s not that asshole on the mountain anymore. We can’t ask him to go back and undo what he did, but we can demand he be a better father; and he has been,” she explained. She could see in his face that it wasn’t enough, and she understood. It wasn’t enough to undo a life of suffering and hatred, but for his own sake she needed him to let go of the festering that the Cult had trained him to harbour. Even if Nikolaos’ improved fatherhood didn’t soothe the pain, she wanted him to find something that would. “We can work on it,” she suggested.

He took another deep breath, shakier than the last. “Come with me,” he said shortly, straightening himself up and walking forward before she agreed. Of course she’d go with him though— for Nikolaos’ safety, and because he hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, for caution’s sake, and he nodded.

He approached Nikolaos until they were almost face to face, but self-consciously stopped. There was no one to intimidate, to threaten here. “We deserved better than you,” he snapped.

“You did. You both did,” he agreed hollowly.

“We deserved to grow up here, with people… with  _ normal  _ people.”

“Of course you did.” Nikolaos’ eyes were wet, but at this point so were Alexios’.

“You can be as fucking nice to Stentor and Phoibe as you fucking want, it’ll  _ never  _ make up for what I went through.” He broke there, just for a second, and turned away angrily.  _ Some things can’t be pushed down, brother. Just breathe,  _ she willed him. Gods forbid she interrupt, though, as it was at least good that he was talking rather than attacking.

Even  _ pater’s breathing  _ was choppy. “I wish there was something I could do that would be enough.”  _ Malakas,  _ now she was weepy as her brother pulled her away, far enough that Nikolaos couldn’t see how profoundly he’d lost control.

“Where do I— “ He stopped, then after a breath, “I’m… I want to sleep.” Another wave of uncertainty was visibly pushed down as Alexios lost full control of what expression he was making. “I just need to— I want to be alone.” He struggled to talk and paw at his face at the same time, until she took both of his hands in one of hers and used her other to clean him up a bit.

“Just inside there’s a cot I’ve been using. It runs small, but I’ll make sure no one bothers you for a while.” Watching him cry was making her cry, and it was just a little worse (and a lot better) when he leaned forward and bumped their foreheads together. He didn’t say anything else, turning on his heel and disappearing into the house.

Once she was fairly certain he was settled, she returned to her father’s side and leaned her head against his shoulder. He reminded her of the statue of Zeus back on Kefalonia— when it rained, the shadows cast under his eyes and the combined wetness made it look like he was crying without moving his face. “He needs time to adjust,” she said, not sure if she meant that to be comforting or not.

His voice was wet and raspy, like swallowing his tears was drowning him. “He’s alive. I don’t care if he hates me forever, Kassandra, so long as he’s alive to do it.”

. . . . .

Stentor had thought long and deeply about what he would say to Myrinne should he ever meet her. He’d heard stories about her when Nikolaos could stand to tell them, and he’d always wondered how he would face her knowing what he knew. She’d never been his  _ mater _ , but she was still technically his father’s wife; when he was very young, he’d thought that maybe she would come back one day, and then maybe she could be.

Right at that moment, the very thought was so embarrassing to him that he could barely stand to glance in her direction. He focused on Phoibe instead, who was admirably masking her anxiety by getting Myrinne to tell her about spears. The allure of her own weapon seemed to distract her from the fact that they’d left Stentor’s father alone with  _ Deimos,  _ noted scourge of the battlefield.

_ Trust your sister,  _ Nikolaos had said. Months prior, he would have scoffed at the idea of trusting Kassandra, but… she really hadn’t killed their  _ pater  _ when they’d met in Megaris. She’d been key in that particular conquest, and then invaluable again in Boeotia; she’d given him no reason to suspect her, except for the fact that she was a  _ misthios  _ and she had every reason to hate his father.

They could both hate him all they wanted: it wasn’t their right to take him away from Stentor.

“So what kind of spear do I get, then?” Their eyes were on him again, and he shook himself out of his cloud.

“Well, first of all don’t think of it as replaceable. You have to learn to respect your weapon as an extension of yourself, not a disposable object.” Myrinne nodded in approval, and he felt his face heating up. “A-As for size,” he continued, less firm than he would have liked, “you’d need something shorter than what Myrinne uses, but not so much that you don’t learn proper handling; all spears are tall and unwieldy to those untrained.”

She glanced uncertainly at the rows of weapons available, and he rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the particular rack she needed. “Thank-you,” she sang, immediately clambering up on a nearby box to better see the engraving on the tips. He stepped back and Myrinne took his arm again.

“Nikolaos could not have instructed her better,” she said, patting his arm. “The  _ agoge  _ did well by you.”

“Does it not do well of everyone?” he asked, reflexively sidestepping the praise. She snorted.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never sent a child there, but I’m certain some must fall through the cracks. Kass would know better, she was up there earlier with the boys.” He frowned.

“Why?” She wouldn’t have attended even if she  _ had  _ grown up in Sparta.

“As a favour, the way I understand; and then like everyone, the instructor saw she was strong and asked her to demonstrate.” What a life his sister led, to never really have to prove her strength in order for it to be assumed. It came, he supposed, with looking like she could haul a cow over her shoulders unflinchingly.

”The Spartan Army is lucky to have her,” he said, which was the only thing he could think of to say that was both entirely neutral and a compliment. The same could be said of any of the rank and file, but Myrinne seemed pleased regardless.

“I’m lucky to have children who grew up strong even without me there to guide them.” He nodded stiffly, as it was one thing that could be said for his siblings: neither were cowards, nor were they helpless. “That includes you, you know. I never knew that Nikolaos adopted; I’m not sure that would have changed anything, but I think back and wish I had known you.” She kept her eyes on Phoibe while she spoke, which he was grateful for because her direct gaze would have mortified him: because he wished he’d known her too. It was ridiculous, because he didn’t know her right that moment let alone at any point in his life, but he was looking at a woman who could drop everything on a dime to pursue her family.

He would have liked that, he thought.

. . . . .

“It will take time,” Myrinne said from her seat at the head of the table. “We’re a Spartan novelty right now, but if we persevere then everything will slow down eventually and it will be like nothing ever happened.” 

Kassandra and Alexios snorted at the same time, and Stentor rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Phoibe snickered from her spot across the room, still kneeling by the dog Nikolaos had found out in the fields. She still hadn’t named him, though Kassandra called him Allie  _ (he’s beautiful and he knows it: Allie,  _ she’d explained).

“Perfectly normal,” Alexios agreed, half into a chunk of bread. Kass kicked him under the table at the same time that Stentor did.

“Could you all pretend to be adults for a little while?” Nikolaos asked mildly, not looking up from the sword he was sharpening.

“Yes  _ pater,” _ Phoibe chimed again, and Kassandra swallowed a laugh just a little too late. Allie wandered over to the table in hopes of scraps, and Nikolaos stood up and made his way over as well; though, probably not for scraps if the way he snatched a fig from Kassandra’s plate as he walked by was any indication.

Phoibe hopped over too, squeezing herself between Alexios and Stentor: probably for the best, as the slightest elbow jab could set the two of them to wrestling. They both moved automatically so she could pick off their plates, a habit she hadn’t dropped despite her new Spartan diet and adoption into a family that was technically a noble house.  _ “Are  _ people even talking about us?” she asked around a half chewed grape.

“Yes and no,” Myrinne said diplomatically.

“That means sometimes they have to say nice things too,” Kassandra told her with a wink. “A general, a polemarch, the leader of a Spartan island; you and Alexios are the scariest out of us just because they can’t predict what sort of deeds the two of you will do.”

“What about you?” she asked.

Kassandra tapped her cup on the table. “I won a wreath for pankration at the Olympics. No one’s allowed to say anything about me.”

“She looks like she travels by picking her boat up and walking it across Greece. Who would say anything in the first place?” Alexios asked, nudging Phoibe’s shoulder. She laughed, and Kass did too, tossing a chunk of bread at her brother’s head.

“I didn’t know it was in pankration,” Stentor said with a frown; he’d been in Boeotia still when she’d won. “Heraean Games?”

“No. I was replacing Testikles,” she said, dipping her bread casually. Alexios rolled his eyes; she  _ loved  _ this story, and Stentor was a fresh audience.

“So you  _ beat  _ Dorieus?” He sounded not incredulous, but awestruck.

She failed terribly at looking indifferent, a grin spreading across her face as she played with her wine. “I was faster than him, and he broke as any other.”

“That’s your cue to clap,” Alexios told Phoibe quietly, and she snorted and stuffed her mouth full of bread. It conveniently hid their joke from Nikolaos, who came around with wine to pour.

“Well, no matter what they’re saying if it’s kind or no, they will find something else to occupy themselves so long as we ignore them,” Myrinne said pointedly, rousing her children from their chatter. “Whatever we must go through—”

“Which may be much, considering the years,” Nikolaos offered from his spot at the table, not without a certain level of self-awareness.

“So long as we don’t give them anything else to chew on, they’ll forget we even exist.” She reached out to squeeze Alexios’ free hand. “We’ve stirred the pot enough for a while, don’t you think?”

Stentor nodded vigorously, showing off his inability to be disagreeable with anyone but his siblings. “Of course.”

“In Sparta,” Kassandra agreed mildly. Alexios inclined his head for the point; there were cultists out there, after all, and even without the strong moral structure he’d missed out on he could happily agree that most of them needed culling anyway. Nikolaos laughed at his eldest’s gall even as Myrinne rolled her eyes indulgently.

They would be okay, she thought, as she watched Alexios try to elbow Stentor over Phoibe’s head at the same time that she fed her dog lamb under the table. Kassandra began discussing the sword Nikolaos had been sharpening with him, though the rules about being armed during dinner kept them from really making a scene. Even after twenty years, betrayal, estrangement, and misery….

They would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I have [a game](https://nebulous.itch.io/manor-hill) and [a blog](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com).
> 
> I may have just been slow to the uptake but like Kassandra is nobility. There were two major Spartan houses from which the two kings were chosen and she was in it. I know that was probably obvious what with her grandfather being Leonidas but that one lady in Sparta was like "are you the one from house Whatever" and Kassandra was just very casually "yeah" like fuck dude. Your house is so small. How's it gunna fit all six damn people in it plus a dog? Maybe an LI on occasion when I actually make a decision?


End file.
